Zebulun
by Akuma no Tsubasa
Summary: Bart does a little growing up, the Gears are sentient, lots of original Elemental action. May become Shounen ai. Warning: contemplated suicide!
1. Weakness and Power

Zebulun

A Xenogears Fanfiction.

Bart does a little growing up, the Gears are sentient, lots of Elemental action, and the answer to the age old question of how the heck they made it out of Merkava without Gears.  (**I surely can't jump that high!)**

**Warnings: AU, may become shounen ai soon**

Kahran Ramsus sighed deeply, and leaned back against Vendetta's foot. He was cold, wet, and miserable, on more than just the physical level. Fei Fong Wong, that ponytailed idiot, had beaten him **again. And Hyuga, his own friend, had helped him do it. It was ****humiliating. And degrading. Miang had betrayed him, Krelian had never ****stopped betraying him, and now he was stuck on his own in a very big, cold world.**

_Well, he thought, looking up at Vendetta's silent mass shielding him from the rain. __Perhaps not totally alone._

Vendetta was the single best thing that had ever happened to him. His perfect synch ratio with the Anima Relic Zebulun meant that the machine obeyed him perfectly. Better still, Vendetta was a very good conversationalist. Kahr was pretty sure that was because he was an Omni-Gear, but, however it had come about, the machine was **damn smart and had an actual sense of humor. Even Wyvern had been unable to truly find humor in his accidental puns, but Vendetta was always full of laughter, a comforting voice in his ears no one but he could hear.**

Kahr was learning to forgive Krelian. Vendetta had been a gift from the scientist, had been designed and partially built by him and his personal team. Maybe, his 'Father' had not been **that bad, after all.**

Kahr shivered and almost wished he were back at the snowfield hideout, where Aerial City Shevat had fallen. At least, there had been heat inside, and shelter from wind and precipitation. Of course, there he'd also been on the receiving end of a few too many venomous looks for his comfort, and, as much as he appreciated their concern, Dominia and the girls had been smothering him. He almost hadn't been able to hear Vendetta's voice over the noise of so many people.

Now, he leaned back against the hard metal of Vendetta's armor, warmed by his body heat, and smiled up at the machine. Vendetta couldn't smile, but a vague happy feeling spread through the constant murmur of its systems.

Suddenly, Kahr felt a strange feeling inside him, but also all around. He rose warily to his feet, eyes searching for the cause of the disturbance. A strange blue and violet glow in the clearing sky drew his eye. It looked like an explosion, but he'd never seen such a colorful one. It was almost like a blooming flower of incandescent energy, and Kahr stood enthralled by it, until its image seemed burned into his retinas.

Then he felt a horrible weakness overtake him from within. It was akin to when he ran out of EP, only worse. His head pounded, his stomach was queasy, and all his limbs felt suddenly painfully weak.

And worst of all, he could no longer hear Vendetta.

"Vendetta?" he called up at the silent hulk. There was no response. "Vendetta?!" he tried again, more insistently. The Gear shuddered slightly, and Kahr could hear, suddenly, the warning messages as Vendetta's systems started crashing. It was, in effect, a desperate plea for help.

Trying to maintain his cool, despite the terror that threatened to overwhelm him, Kahr listened to the messages, trying to determine the cause of the problem. He was shocked at the apparent answer. "Out of fuel?! Even the backup cells are out? How is that possible? You just got refueled, and the backups are brand new!" He started a walk around, checking for any fuel leaks, but his legs went out from under him, abruptly landing him on his back..

Arms shaking, Kahr pushed himself into a sitting position. Puzzled and, by now, terrified by the inexplicable events, he looked up at the flickering lights of Vendetta's eyes. He was sure his sudden weakness and Vendetta's malfunction were related, somehow, but **how, he couldn't say.**

"What's happening…?" he asked, forlornly into the silent dawn.

*

PRIVATESigurd's blue eye followed the excited guard that burst into the room where Queen Zephyr, Hyuga, Jesse, and Bart-tachi were having a conference on the loss of power all over the world after Zohar and Deus were destroyed. That loss was causing serious problems everywhere. It was a miracle the Gears had had enough energy to make it out of Merkava to Yggdrasil afterward. And whomever the long-dead engineer was who had built the system in the sandcruiser that allowed it to run without relying on Zohar, even if only marginally, was a Saint. 

That was most of the point for his and Bart's presence; trying to come up with ways to incorporate similar technology into Gears and other large machines. Rebuilding almost the whole world when most of the labor force was dead, ill (read: mutated), or missing (read: Seraph-ized) with no machinery to help was just not feasible.

Sigurd was more than mildly irritated at this newest interruption. There had been far too many of them already, today, and the ex-Element of fire was starting to feel his formidable temper slipping its bonds. He felt the ripple of irrational rage bubble up within him, but pushed it back. Again. As usual. He couldn't afford even to be himself, even for a moment, these days. Too many people now looked to him for support and guidance, to be their voice of reason, including Bart.

**Especially Bart. If Sigurd allowed himself to rage when he was angry, to act with the same juvenile recklessness that had characterized him until he left Solaris, Bart would surely feel vindicated in all of his tantrums and rash deeds. As frustrating as restraining himself was, Sigurd truly doubted his ability to deal with a Bart who was even more violent, messy, reckless, and insufferable than he already was.**

One Sigurd in the world was more than enough.

Sigurd pushed off the wall he had been leaning against, not realizing he had adopted his old 'I'm the fire Element and I don't give jack' posture as he leaned. Of course, Jesse and Hyuga had noticed and were sharing a long look, just waiting for the impending explosion. They had seen Sigurd reverting back into Element mode, and had recognized the body language that said Siggy was **not a Happy Boy.**

To their surprise, and Sigurd's credit, the tall, silver-haired man only planted himself in the frantic guard's path, effectively halting him. The guard looked up at him, eyes wide, as if the possibility that he might be impeded had never occurred to him.

"Well, mister," Sigurd began calmly. Hyuga actually saw Bart shrink down in his chair, recognizing his half-brother's tone as the one reserved for when he was seriously considering inflicting bodily harm upon the source of his ire. Hyuga was glad he wasn't the only one who cringed when the amber-skinned man got upset. Oblivious to the reactions around the room, Sigurd pinned the guard with a steady blue gaze. "I'm sure you have good cause to burst in on an important conference. Now, let's hear it." Sigurd's arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked even more imposing, but the gesture meant he was holding himself back, that he was still in control of his temper.

"S-sir, there's a Gear showing up on our scanners," the (wisely) terrified guard stammered. Sigurd, however, was **not impressed.**

"And? I **know there must be something remarkable about this Gear…"**

"Yessir. It's moving, sir. This way, sir."

The whole room rose, shock on their faces. Sigurd mentally sighed. /I guess it's a good thing I didn't kill him. Spoil my fun. *sigh*/

*

The control room for the ruined Shevat's sensor systems was fortunately very spacious, otherwise, most of the meeting group would never have been able to pack themselves into it. As it was, they **were packed, everyone trying to see the radar screen, then, once the contact was in visual range, they all tried to get a good view of the view screen.**

Fei was the first one to choke out a reaction. "Oh, my God! That's Vendetta!"

Indeed, it was. The Omni-Gear was flying very low, and painfully slow, by Gear standards. Even as they watched, they saw the thing 'land'; really nothing more than a crash softened by a snowdrift. The Gear rose from the scattered pile of white stuff clumsily, and began walking toward the hideout.

Seraphita giggled in delight. "Commander Ramsus is coming back, yay! And **his Gear still works! He's the best!"**

Citan shook his head, dampening the spirits of the excited female Elements. "No, look. Venetta would appear to be having serious problems. Its reserve power must be running out."

Just then, a crackling transmission came across the radio. It was static ridden, but the voice was definitely Ramsus'. "-zzt- Shevat. Vendetta req-chzz- permission –pop- land."

            Zephyr turned toward the man at the radio.  "Let him in.  Get someone out there to open the hangar doors."

            The man turned to the task assigned him, while everyone else filed out, headed towards the Gear Hangar.  The foremost questions on their minds: How is Vendetta moving? and Why Vendetta and not, say, Xenogears?

*

            The conference group entered the Gear dock, looking for the new arrival.  The pile of slush and melted snow made Vendetta easy to find.  Ramsus yelling and threatening the Gear technicians with dismemberment if they touched his Gear probably didn't hurt, either.  Fei walked up to the obviously distressed Solarian, a stupid move for anyone, never mind for the one person in the world he actually hated **more than Krelian.**

            "Hey, Ramsus.  What're you so upset about?"

            The pale man whirled on Fei, his sword scraping out of its sheath.  He grabbed Fei by the collar, lifted him off the floor, then pinned the other against the nearest wall.  His sword hovered dangerously close to Fei's throat, and his voice was a murderous growl.

            "Upset?  **Upset???  I'll give you 'upset', you little bastard!  What the hell did you do to Vendetta?  Speak, you asshole, before I cut out your tongue so you never speak again!"**

            Sigurd's temper, still on slow simmer, jumped straight to boil.  He'd just had enough of **everything today, and now it was time to flatten something.  Preferably, the current object of his ire: Kahran Ramsus.  Sigurd reached out one-handed and plucked Fei from Kahr's grasp, ignoring Fei's squeak of protest as his shirt tore and Kahr's sword nicked his throat.  He dropped the martial artist without any care for how he landed, and stepped into Kahr's furious face.  A vicious backhanded slap actually picked Kahr clear off the deck and tossed him into the metal foot of his Gear.  He felt Vendetta's energy rise, and mentally told it to back off as he stepped over to the crumpled form of his friend.**

            Anger bleeding out of him, Sigurd crouched beside Kahr.  The other's pale eyes swung up to his face, welling with tears, and a hand pressed to his already discoloring cheek.  The hurt in those eyes was physical, yes, but more emotional than anything else.  It was **betrayal, and that was an emotion he'd hoped to never see in Kahr's eyes again, after having first seen it while leaving Solaris.  While leaving ****Kahr.**

            Sigurd pulled the other man from his untidy pile, and pulled his resisting (out of **fear, Sigurd was ashamed to realize) friend into his lap.  With a sigh, he buried his face in the ivory hair so handily nearby, and murmured a soft apology.  The tension ran out of Kahr as if it had never been, and he pressed himself gratefully against Sigurd, soaking up his body heat.  He was shivery and wet, and he was getting Sigurd wet, too, but both were enjoying a moment of peace the likes of which they'd not had for years.**

            /This,/ Sigurd thought.  /This is why we were always best friends.  Not circumstance, not the need for **somebody to be there, not any 'element compatibility boost' crap.  Just this rightness, this trust, no matter what happens.  Just this./**

            After a few moments more (through which Fei-tachi gaped stupidly at them, but didn't dare say anything), Sigurd reluctantly pulled back far enough to see his best friend's face.  He smiled slightly, and was given a tremulous smile in return.  He searched Kahr's face for any uneasiness, then jumped on in.  "How about telling us what had you in such a rage?  I know you hate Fei,"  Sigurd was moderately alarmed to see Kahr bare his teeth at the mention of his arch nemesis, but he plowed on anyway.  "But you were warning off all the techs, too.  What's up?"

            Kahr opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap, and glared suspiciously at Fei-tachi.  He shook his head.  "Not in front of them.  **You're going to have a hard time believing it, never mind ****them."  He glanced at Dominia-tachi as well.  "Not them either."**

            Dominia opened her mouth to protest, but Sigurd replied too quickly.  "Whatever you want, Kahr."  Then he looked down at his damp clothing, and grimaced, something his understated (but present) vanity usually didn't allow.  "First, though, how about we both find some dry clothes?  I'm sure you've got a lot to say, and I, for one, don't want to catch pneumonia while we talk."

            Kahr ducked his head, muttered a nearly inaudible apology, and blushed like a schoolgirl (a phenomenon which had earned him plenty of gentle teasing from his friends at Jugend), before nodding his assent.  Sigurd grinned at the blush and helped the other to his feet.

            "Well, then, let's go!" he said with uncharacteristic (in recent years, anyway) cheer.  He then swept away with Kahr, not saying word one to anyone in the room as he did it.

*

**            Bart stood at the door to Sigurd's room.  It was closed, but that only provided him cover from the sight of the people inside.  Of course, since Sigurd was an empath, it took a little more than a door in the way to go unnoticed.  Bart had long ago perfected the art of 'hiding' himself from the senses of the older man, at least when he wasn't actively 'looking' for him.  As long as Sigurd didn't suspect anything, Bart was fine; the instant he did, however, the game was up.**

            Which was why Bart was also standing perfectly still, and breathing as quietly as he could.

            Sigurd and Kahr had come into this very room several hours ago to talk about what had pissed the Solarian off so badly.  Kahr had left much later, but then Doc Uzuki had gone in.  Bart had decided to eavesdrop.  It wasn't a hard decision for him, even knowing Sigurd and Old Maison would have been sorely disappointed in him.  Now he listened intently to the conversation between his (half-) brother and the Doctor.  He was coming into it in the middle, but he figured he could figure out most of it, anyway.

            "—don't get it, Hyuga!"  Sigurd was closer to raising his voice than Bart had heard him in years.  It hurt a little that Sig would relax enough to show his feelings in front of Citan, but never showed **him jack squat.**

            Citan's voice was level and as calm as usual.  "I might understand a little better if you slowed down and explained it to me."

            A silence followed in which Bart could envision Sigurd taking a deep, steadying breath.  "Sorry.  I know you've noticed how out of it Emeralda is, and you saw how easy it was for me to take Kahr down.  I've always been able to tie him in knots without breaking a sweat, but that was just ridiculous; if he hadn't been so startled, **Fei could have taken him.  Easy."  There was a silence.  "It's not so much who's stronger, though Fei does have an advantage there.  The point is, it would usually have taken Fei a while to take Kahr out, so the fact that he could have beaten Kahr so easily is an indicator of his current weakness.  So what do Kahr and Emeralda have in common?"**

            Bart heard the soft _tap tap tap of Citan's foot as he adopted his thinking position.  "They were both experiments of Krelian's?"_

            Sigurd snorted.  "Hell, **I was that.  No, something the two of them and Krelian had in common, that I ****don't have."**

            "Nanomachines!"  Citan's voice had the tone of one who knew **for sure he was right.  There was no verbal reply, but the way Citan continued proved what Sigurd had caused him to understand.  "Krelian studied and used nanotech, Emeralda is an ancient nanomachine colony, and Kahr is a more recent one."  A short pause.  "But why would that link their current states of weakness and tiredness?  Is this something that attacks nanomachines?"**

            "No.  Nanomachines are still machines, aren't they?"  Another short pause.  "Didn't all machines on the planet run off the same energy source?"

            "Oh, no…"  Citan's voice was low, and he sounded almost sick.  "But living things can't go without energy, and Emeralda and Kahr **do live, if not in the usual sense.  That being so…"**

            "They're dying," Sigurd said flatly.

            Behind the door, Bart almost choked, only remembering at the last minute that he had to stay quiet.  /Dying?/ he wondered.  /That can't be right!  Emeralda is hundreds, **thousands of years old!  She can't die now!  Fei and Elly'd be crushed!  And Ramsus…he's just too much of a stubborn prick to die!/**

            Citan spoke after a long silence.  "He told you this?"

            "Not in so many words.  I don't think he's realized it yet, but he said he got really weak after he saw an explosion in the sky.  According to you and Bart, after you killed Deus, all your Gears, except Xenogears, shut down.  But then, the core of Deus began reacting again, and Elly took it away from the planet.  Fei went after her.  A few minutes later, as the reaction continued to build, your Gears came back up on emergency power and you got out of Merkava and back to Yggdrasil.  Then the power cut out again when Deus exploded in the sky."

            There was the sound of Citan's tapping again, and the near-silence of Sigurd's pacing steps.  Sigurd very rarely paced, and only when he was extremely agitated.  "Now, because the Zohar Modifier had to produce and distribute energy to the whole planet, a temporary loss of power like the one caused when you killed the Deus system here on the planet probably wouldn't be recognized by anything further away from the source than you were.  Even on Yggdrasil, the power only flickered momentarily.

"Think of it like this:  You've got a sieve full of water, connected to a pump that keeps the sieve full.  If the pump stops, water still gets distributed through the sieve, but the **backup, the water still in the sieve, is quickly depleted.  Cut the pump ****permanently and the backed up water eventually, usually very rapidly, runs out.  It just happens sooner with the lower reserve level.  If you are standing right next to the pump, you realize quickly that it has stopped pumping, but if you're on the other side of the sieve, you don't notice until the stored water runs out.  Of course, this is energy, not water, so it moves at a much higher velocity, and it's being filtered and distributed though something much different than a sieve, but the principle is still the same, and it explains why Kahr felt no change in power when Zohar went down the first time."**

Bart heard Citan chuckle with weak humor.  "Good analogy, Sigurd.  I myself could not have found one better.  I guess explaining things to the young one has taught you a bit about finding examples."

Bart passionately **hated being referred to as 'the young one', and he only tolerated 'Young Master' because it was so much better than 'Your Highness'.  Still, Bart felt the urge to march in there and beat the daylights out of the doc, despite the fact that Sigurd would ****hurt him for about a thousand different reasons.  To his astonishment, however, he heard Sigurd whirl on Citan, and his voice was a dangerous growl.  "I hope you're not insulting Bart's intelligence, Hyuga.  He may not be a genius, but he's plenty smart enough, and he has a good heart."**

Bart didn't blame Citan for the nervous flutter of his voice when he spoke.  "N-no, I didn't mean that.  Of course not!  He just sometimes needs things put in different terms."

Hearing **that hurt more than the whole 'finding examples' bit had, and Bart swallowed bitter tears.  He knew that everyone thought of him as a slightly brain-dead meat-head who went around shooting stuff up at every opportunity, who also happened to be the heir to one of the largest and most influential countries on the surface of the world.  He ****knew that, but he also knew that no one would say anything too scathing about it to his face.  He'd just discovered the downside to eavesdropping: when people didn't know you were there, they said things you might not want to hear.**

Anger followed the hurt.  How was he supposed to help it if he enjoyed explosions and pyrotechnic displays?  How could he help it that his schoolwork put him to sleep because the textbooks were so bone dry, and he needed someone, **anyone, to explain things to him in some way that would allow him to stay awake long enough to absorb them?  And where the ****hell did a Goddamned genius like Citan, who knew he was smarter than the average person, get off looking down his nose at Bart for being a typical teenager in an ****atypical role?**

So incensed and miserable was he, that he missed anything Sigurd came back with.  He was lost in his own mind for several moments, then yanked himself back as a topic change filtered into his mind.

"—not about dying, then what **was Kahr so upset about?" Citan asked.**

"Vendetta," Sigurd replied simply.  "Apparently, he can hear the Gear, through his nanos, I think.  Anyway, since he's had no real human friends in years, he's turned to Gears for companionship.  According to him, Vendetta is an excellent conversationalist, and quite the comedian."

Citan could be heard thinking again.  "So he's worried about his friend dying?  But Vendetta is a Gear; even when it runs out of power, as long as there's no damage to the memory systems, we can bring it back whenever we find the power with which to do so.  Vendetta is in no danger."

"I don't think Kahr's worried about Vendetta **dying.  More like, he's afraid of Vendetta leaving him, or that he won't be there for Vendetta when it 'wakes up' again."**

"Kahr doesn't know he's dying, so how can that be a problem?"

"Kahr isn't a nanomachine colony in the same way Emeralda is.  She could dissipate into a nano reactor and be fine for centuries more, even without power.  Kahr can't dissipate.  He's more like a cyborg than a fully mechanized organism.  He's like a human being built by nanos, but the nanos' function doesn't stop at building him.  They are his immune system, they regulate his bodily functions, cellular decay, make up most of his nervous system, and various other things.  However, they are as dependent upon his biological parts as those living parts are dependent on them.  When one dies, the other will die, too.  Possibly with a long time between each system's shutdown, but it will happen.  Kahr's worried that we won't find a power source within the span of his biological components' lifetime, and that he will die, and Vendetta will 'wake up' one day, surrounded by strangers, without even him to depend on."

"He's afraid of abandonment.  Or of abandoning another."  Citan sounded like one who had just had a revelation.  Bart felt a malicious, purely childish sense of satisfaction at that.  Even **he knew that that would be Ramsus's major punch button.**

Sigurd, however, pointed out exactly what Bart wanted to, if in a most decidedly gentler manner than he would have.  "Well, look at his life, Hyu!  He was made to fill a very specific role in life, and when the one **born to do the same thing showed up, he was booted out, and told he was worthless.  He had to claw his way out of the lower levels of Solaris without help, or friends, or patronage.  When he started to make a name for himself, people turned to him as a leader, but he knew that the instant he screwed up, they'd drop him like a road-killed skunk.  The four of us became friends, then Jesse up and leaves out of the blue.  Then ****I…"  Sigurd trailed off, guilt hovering in his silence before he spoke up again.**

"The point is, Hyu, that he never wants to be abandoned or betrayed again, and that he knows how much it hurts to **be abandoned and betrayed.  Kahr is a good and decent person on a fundamental level; he would never inflict that agony on another knowingly."**

There was another of those long silences.  Just when Bart was about to creep away, certain they had finished saying whatever needed saying, Citan spoke up again.  "You really are different from the old days.  I barely even know you anymore, Sigurd.  I kind of like the current you, but…Where did the old Sigurd go?  The one who was every bit as hotheaded, trigger-happy, and overly energetic as Bart is now?  The one who either ate or flirted with anything not moving fast enough, who ditched classes but still graduated second after me and tied with Kahr?  Where did he go, Sigurd?  I liked **him, too."**

Sigurd sighed, a surprisingly resigned, tired sound.  "Nothing happened to him, Hyu.  He's still in there, somewhere.  But he's recognized that other people need him, and not to give them advice on pickup lines."

"Bart?"

"Bart.  Mostly.  But everyone else, too.  You saw the amount of help and explanation Fei and Elly and everybody needed.  They needed someone to depend on, someone other than you, so I was it.  And as for Bart…I swore to the King I would protect his family, and you know I take oaths very seriously.  He needed protection, so I provided it.  When he grew out of that total helplessness, he needed a mentor, so I provided that, too.  He needed revenge, so I planned it for him, taught him, protected and cared for him.  And somewhere along the way, I forgot what it was like to **not be needed every moment of every day.  I got used to it, though, and don't really mind anymore.  Hell," his tone grew wry.  "Now I'd probably be hurt if I wasn't needed by ****someone.  I wish it wasn't such a full-time job with Bart, but what can I do?  He'll either one day not need me, or he always will.  I'm not sure which idea scares me more.  Though, I'll be proud of him, when he does move on."**

"'When'?" Citan asked.  "Don't you mean 'if'?  He's nineteen, Sigurd.  If he's not already at least a little independent by now, I doubt very much he'll ever be."

There was a heavy sigh.  "You may be right.  But I **know he could do it!  He already is so good at managing Aveh, you'd think he'd been doing this forever.  He hasn't, and that just makes it all the more impressive.  If he'd just apply that to other things; his studies, relations outside of Aveh, and –God!  I know he doesn't want to marry Margurite, but if he'd just be a little gentler toward the Nisan Sisters when they bring it up…Especially poor Sister Agnes.  He should be allowed to marry whomever he wants to, but he doesn't have to hurt people on the way!"**

Bart, by now, had finally decided he'd had enough.  Knowing he was hurting **Sigurd, of all people, with his (admitted) irresponsibility hurt him.  He wanted to make his brother proud of him, wanted to give him back his freedom to be as he wanted to be.  Hearing Sigurd's voice say that it was all right if he never 'grew up', that he would always be there for him, filled Bart with a horrible guilt.  Even the barest thought that Sigurd might think him ****unable to succeed was terrible.**

Bart crept silently away, retiring to his room without a word to anyone.

And his mind was busy.

*

            Well, minna, that's Part One of Zebulun!  Now, I know I've not posted a Xenogears fic before, but I think the game deserved vastly more attention and a greater following than it ever got.  Therefore, in the interest of expanding the section on FF.Net, I decided to submit my little piece of mediocrity.  Not to mention, I'm a die hard Sigurd fan.  *grin*  I HAD to write something for him.  If I get reviews, I'll write faster.  I'll probably write more anyway, though, so you guys are stuck with me!  Mwahahahaha!

            Special thanks goes out to Starvoicereason for Beta-ing this for me.  (I love you!)  Also, you happy people who run Guardian Angels…Thank you so much for all the stuff you have on your site.  I really appreciate it, since my copy of the Perfect Works never came…*sniffle*  Damn straight they gave me my money back!  Grrr!


	2. Change of Self

 Hello!

  To the handful of people who actually read and review this fic: Thank you all so much!  I love you!

  *ahem*  Unlike my other fics, I won't get so long-winged in the pre-part notes, yet.  Please just read my poor baby ficlet, so maybe he'll grow up to be as big a monster as _CAN!  He'll grow anyway, but reviews are like miracle grow, ne?_

\\Blah.\\ is a flashback.

Zebulun

A Xenogears Fanfiction.

*

Old Maison looked at the clock, then started as he realized how late it already was.  He'd gotten involved in wondering what was wrong with things in general, and the Young Master in particular, and now he had less than five minutes to get the Young Master up, dressed, fed, and to his meeting with Kaiser Banderas.  The Young Master hadn't eaten last night, undoubtedly had no idea what this meeting was about, and didn't really **like Banderas, even if they had helped take Deus down together.**

Just as Maison started to leap from his chair in a frenzy to get everything done, a stack of papers landed on the table in front of him.  He blinked, then looked up at where the papers had come from.

Bart stood there, already in his official attire, nibbling on a roll and some sausage.  He had a napkin tucked into his collar to catch crumbs before they landed on his pristine clothes, and his hair was already in a neat braid.  Maison stared down at the papers.  "What's this, Young Master?" he asked.

Bart shrugged.  "My classwork.  Calculus, Literature, writing, and economics.  I only got half the Physics done 'cause –Excuse me, **because—the sensor died part way through.  I extrapolated the last data points, though, and marked them in red as theoretical, not observed.  Will that do?"**

Maison nodded, dazed.  "You're up early, Young Master…"

Bart glanced at his watch, swallowing a bite of his roll quickly.  "Well, I **do have that meeting with the Kaiser in…three and a half minutes?!  I had better get going!"  With a swish of the cloak that was part of his formal wear, Bart pivoted on one heel and walked out the door toward the conference room.**

Sigurd was just headed in (having also slept in), and glanced past his brother toward Maison, an eyebrow cocked in question.  Maison shook his head like a punch-drunk fighter, absolutely bewildered.  Bart, however inclined his head politely to Sigurd.  "Good morning, Sigurd," he said quietly, then was moving down the hall at a rapid, yet still decorous pace.

Citan appeared at the end of the hall and Bart greeted him as cordially as anyone else.  Citan wandered in, looking **more confused than anyone (an unusual look on him, not to mention rare).  "What was ****that all about, I wonder?"**

Sigurd looked at Maison.  "Did he sleep at all last night?"

"I don't know.  But look!"  He tapped the stack of paperwork on the table.  "He actually did his homework!  **All of it.  Except half the Physics, because the sensor died, so he just extrapolated…"**

The other two stared at him, then lunged for the papers, flipping through them.  "He did it, he really did it…" Citan muttered, looking over the math and physics.  "These aren't just faked up numbers, he actually did the work!"  Sigurd was too busy reading the essay Bart had submitted to reply.  It was actually combined writing and literature, since it was an analysis of the book he'd been assigned to read, _The Silmarillion.  There was another essay, too, and it was about the economic short-fallings of various governmental systems._

Citan looked at Maison, after quirking an eyebrow at Sigurd's absorption.  "Did you have another talk with the Young One about his scholarly duties?"

Maison shook his head.  "I did not.  No one even saw him yesterday, except when Mr. Ramsus came in and at the meeting…He did not even come out for supper!"

Sigurd began to look a little worried.  "Is he sick?  Did someone say something to him?"

Citan shook his head.  "He barely improves when **we say something, and doesn't even listen to anyone else, except Fei.  And he never listens to Fei about anything official.  Even Miss Marguriete seldom gets through to him."  He paused a moment.  "I know of no mere sickness that could cause such behavioral changes, yet we probably ought to look into it.  Perhaps it is simply a phase, but it could be a psychological condition."**

Maison sighed.  "As much as I would like this to be more than just 'a phase', I do hope the Young Master is not ill."

Citan sighed.  "The pressures of ruling a kingdom are great.  Perhaps they are finally getting to him?"  He shrugged.  "I will look into this, but it would probably be a good idea if the two of you are as supportive as possible of him.  If this is an actual **reform, if he has finally decided to take his position seriously, then we certainly want him to continue!"**

*

Kahr sat beside Vendetta in the Gear dock, not doing anything in particular.  He was getting some strange looks, but he didn't care to acknowledge them.  They didn't matter.  He was currently focusing on radiating as much comfort as he could to Vendetta, despite the fact that he was feeling distinctly unwell this morning.  This was only their second day in Shevat since the incident, but it had taken almost two weeks to get here with Vendetta's power so low.  Now Vendetta couldn't move at all, having expended so much energy in the flight over the ocean, and walking to the ruined remains of the Aerial City.

Kahr kept up a steady stream of quiet whispers to his craft, the cause of the odd looks he was getting, and listened intently when Vendetta made reply.  He had tried to tell Vendetta to be silent to preserve even that energy, but both knew it was useless.  It was like telling a dying man to be quiet and save his strength; it didn't prolong life significantly, but it did silence any last words or requests.

Oh, sure, he knew that the lack of power wouldn't actually **kill Vendetta, that he could be brought back online whenever they became able to, but it didn't soothe any of Kahr's concerns.  Especially in light of something Vendetta had told him just this morning.  That ****his power levels were dropping, too.  He was smaller than a Gear, so he needed less power, but he also had smaller built-in reserves.  And he ****would die when he lost power, because his biological systems weren't capable of supporting him, since most of his nervous system, at the very least, was made up of nanomachines.**

It had been a highly unpleasant revelation.  Kahr wasn't afraid to die, not really, even if that did make him a little…odd, since he didn't know if he would get an afterlife, being man-made and not fully human.  What he was afraid of was abandoning Vendetta, or being abandoned **by Vendetta.  He knew they wouldn't have much choice, that now it was simply waiting to see who shut down first, but he had always been terrified of abandonment.**

He sighed and tilted his head back against Vendetta's cool, slick armor, enjoying the physical contact.  Both of them had lapsed into silence, but he could hear the faint—even to his ears—sounds that betrayed that Vendetta was still operating.

**~She comes.~  Vendetta's voice was soft in Kahr's ears, and his tone told Kahr exactly who 'she' was.  He tilted his head to track her over the edge of the metal platform on which he sat.  Her sea-green hair floated around her, though it lacked much of the luster it had had the last time he'd seen her.**

During the very short time between when the Shevat survivors had recovered Kahr, and when Fei and company set out for Merkava the final time, Kahr and Emeralda had struck up a kind of companionship.  Actually, it was closer to outright friendship, although neither could say so.  It hardly surprised Kahr to see her here; she always knew where to find him.  Even as he watched her, she lifted her dark face and her brilliant gold eyes, so much like his, found him.

"Hello," she said, quietly, but he could still hear her over the din of Gear mechanics, technicians, and workers.

"Hello," he replied, and Vendetta greeted her, too.  She smiled.

"May I join the two of you?"

Kahr nodded even as Vendetta gave his assent, and Emeralda padded up the stairs and ladders to the platform at Vendetta's eye level.  This level was seldom used, except to repair battle damage or camera damage, so Kahr had taken to camping up here; it kept over-enthusiastic techs from trampling him, after all.  Emeralda sat down beside him, a slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth, a smile which he returned.  Then her smile faded.

"You know now, don't you?"

Through the link they had, a sort of nanomachine resonance very like weak telepathy, Kahr knew she was talking about the power losses.  He looked levelly at her pulling up her power levels 'on screen' in his mind's eye.  Then he looked away.  "You, too, huh?  I thought maybe, since you're from Zeboim…but I guess not."

Her smile was gentle, and Kahr marveled at how the ancient scientist Kim had managed to capture the woman Elly's smile so perfectly in their 'child'.  "We all run off the same power source, so we will all shut down when all that extra energy runs out."  She studied him closely.  "But you're alive.  When you shut down, you'll die."

Vendetta shuddered in the docking restraints.  Kahr knew the machine had been trying to work through the implications of that before-hand, but to hear it so plainly put, with no room for question….  Kahr bowed his head.  "I know," he murmured hoarsely, running a gentle hand over Vendetta's 'cheek'.

"I'm sorry…" Emeralda whispered, casting her eyes away, and hiding her face with her bangs.  "I…don't understand 'die' very well, though I know Kim died.  I won't die, just shut down like Crescens and Vendetta and Andvari.  But you…"

He shrugged, then a thought occurred to him.  "Emeralda?" he asked.  Her golden eyes turned to him again.  "When they find a power source for the Gears, they'll probably find one for you, right?  Since they don't care as much about the Gears as they do for 'people' like you," a curled lip demonstrated Kahr's opinion on that narrow definition of 'person' quite eloquently.  "They may even find one for you first, right?"  Emeralda nodded slowly, trying to figure out where he was headed with this line of discussion.

"I…" he started hesitantly.  "Emeralda, when you wake up from this 'sleep', could you look after Vendetta?"  Those golden eyes flicked up to his face, wide with surprise, but he plowed on.  "I don't want him to be alone forever…"  Beneath them, Vendetta shuddered again, more violently, this time.  Kahr sighed and reached up to Vendetta's 'face' again.  "I mean it, Zeb!  I will not have you all alone forever, and cheerless!"  He lowered his voice.  "You're my best friend, and I never want you to suffer."

Emeralda watched them with somber eyes.  Finally she spoke.  "I wish Crescens was as smart and funny as Vendetta.  Is it the Relic?"

Kahr smiled.  "He is smart, isn't he?  And I think it **is the Relic."  He frowned.  "But Crescens is nearly as smart as Vendetta.  I think maybe Crescens is just tired and worried.  She did spend a long time in stand-by, too…  Have you tried a reboot?  Or defragmenting the drives?  Maybe she's slower only because of having weird data bits stored in her."**

Emeralda frowned.  "I could try that…but I do think most of it's just the relic.  Crescens will never have one, since I cannot align with one.  Is it because you have biological parts?  Or is it maybe something else?"

Kahr shrugged.  "I don't know."  Then he gave her a narrow look.  "And you haven't answered my question, yet."

Emeralda looked uncomfortable.  "I don't know if I can.  Vendetta…" she hesitated, searching for the right words.  She had been getting steadily better with words since 'growing up', but still had to think fairly often.  "Vendetta is **yours; your friend, your Gear, the bearer of the anima that matches your animus.  I could never be enough for him."**

Kahr sighed, although he'd been expecting an answer of that sort.  "I suppose not…But, I **need to know someone will be there for him.  If I weren't dying now, I'd still have to ask, someday.  I'll die, eventually, no matter what."**

Emeralda studied his face for long moments.  "I—can't promise anything, Kahr," she whispered, placing a dark hand on one of his pale ones.  Her eyes met his solemnly, aglow with sincerity.  "But I will try."

He smiled.  "That's all I ask, Emmy."

She smiled at the nickname and scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, attempting to give him what comfort she could, even without understanding.  "Kahr?" she asked out of the silence.

"Mmm?"

"Where…do you think you'll go when you…die?"

He sighed.  Hadn't he just thought this?  "I don't know, Emmy."

"Well…where do you want to go?"

He considered that for a moment.  "I want to go to at least visit Krelian.  I…have things I want to ask him."

"And then?"

He shrugged.  "Wherever my friends are."

She looked up at him, her face vulnerable.  "I'm your friend, right?"  At his nod she smiled tremulously.  "Will you come to visit **me, then?  I'd really like that."**

He smiled and pulled her closer to him.  "I'll certainly try.  As long as you believe I'm there, I'm sure some part of me will be.  I won't leave you alone."

She smiled, then frowned a little.  "If you're a copy of Fei, who was Kim, does that make you part way my father, too?"

He blinked.  "I don't know, Emmy.  I don't think so.  I think we're more like…siblings.  Brother and sister, always."  He smiled into the gold eyes that were so much like his own.  "Always."

*

Bart tried desperately to focus his flagging attention on his math homework.  Integration was **such a pain in his royal ass.  He sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he would have to get up and do something else for a while, or his brain would explode.  He was trying so hard to do everything right; he researched the meetings he was going to, did his homework on time, used Proper Ignas Dialect, was polite when Sister Agnes brought up marriage, even ate all his peas!**

Now, however, things were almost worse.  In the week since he had first started his attempt to reform, all of the residents of the castle had commented on how wonderful he was being, how proud they were, how good it was that he was being so grown up….  Maybe they didn't realize it, but in expressing their satisfaction with the 'new him', they were expressing **dissatisfaction with the 'old him'.**

The **real him.**

Oh, he tried.  He tried so hard it **hurt to wipe away all his old violent impulses, all his bravado, and aggressiveness.  He was trying to make himself the perfect ruler, and, despite all the training he had gone through, all the efforts to prepare him, even his royal ****blood, Bart found he just couldn't do it.  He wasn't made to be a ruler; he was a ****leader, and there was a difference.  He wasn't used to sitting back while other people did what he told them to.  He wasn't used to being looked to for an example of perfect behavior, intelligence, and compassion.  He was used to being at the front lines with his men, getting his hands dirty, and doing ****with them.  Now, he couldn't even work on Andvari on his own.  Sure, the Gear hadn't moved in weeks, but Andvari was a ****friend, a war buddy, and now he couldn't even look in occasionally to see if a new power source was anywhere near testing.**

He was getting so **frustrated.  No wonder his father had wanted him to get rid of the monarchy!  He was still trying to do that, but, for now, despite all his previous screw-ups, Bart was King, and he had no intention of leaving his people hanging when they needed him.**

But, **God!  He was stifling under the weight of his responsibilities, and no one seemed to notice or care.**

He pulled on some nasty, oil-stained clothes, pulled on a hat and tucked his braid under it, rubbed some grease on his face, strapped a few daggers to himself (his weapon of second choice), and slipped out one of the windows.  He crept into the deserted Gear Dock, feeling a moment's resentment that no one was here working on finding a power source, then decided that if he needed a break, they probably needed one at least as badly.  He strode up to Andvari, gazing up at the silent Gear with a pang of sadness.  He climbed the maintenance frame around the red Gear, and opened the cockpit hatch manually.  Closing it behind him, he flopped down into the seat.  It still curved around him, cradling his body as perfectly as if it had been made for him, and Bart leaned back with a sigh of simple pleasure.

"Sorry, buddy," he murmured, tracing a loving hand over the inner surfaces of the cockpit.  "I know I've been away a long time.  I don't know who to talk to, anymore, though.  All I have is you."  He smiled as he remembered his shock upon discovering that the Omni-Gear had no controls, and the exultation that had thrummed through his veins, mind, and his very soul each time he had gone into battle with this great machine.  "I wish I could have that again," he whispered prayerfully into the darkened cockpit.  "I wish you didn't have to go."

A blinding flash erupted behind his eyes, and he was once again in Andvari's cockpit.

\\"I wish you didn't have to go," he said with a much deeper voice.  "I know it's for the peace of Ignas, but it feels like…like killing a part of myself!"  He looked around with stereoscopic vision, taking in the sight of the instrumentless cockpit, the smell of sweat, blood, and distant desperation that lingered in it, still.  He leaned back in the seat that had always felt made to fit him, just feeling Dan's presence around him, for perhaps the last time.

A gentle face appeared over the edge of the cockpit.  Raud smiled at him with the gentleness only the holy had.  Sophia had had it, Mary, his bride-to-be from Nisan, had it, and pale Raud, a healer from far away south, had it.  He smiled in return at the gentle man, whom everyone loved.

"Hi, Raud.  Mary send you to get me?"

A halo of pale hair floated about the healer's head as he shook it.  "No.  I just thought you should know we're ready."  He looked around the cockpit.  "You're really going to miss him, aren't you?"  He nodded.  "Well, maybe you'll see him again?"  It was a question, hesitant, but hopeful.

He snorted bitterly.  "Yeah, right.  Not this lifetime."

Raud smiled sweetly.  "Maybe it doesn't have to be."

He looked strangely at the oddly serene man.  He was only a little older than he, how was Raud always so calm and sweet?  "Maybe," he conceded doubtfully, and gave one last glance before leaping out of the cockpit, Raud swift behind him.  As they started to leave the Cannon fort, he looked back one last time at the burial place he'd chosen for his dearest companion.

"I'm gonna miss him so much…" he whispered hoarsely, before his agony overcame his desire to be strong, and he broke into tears.  Raud's arms slipped around him, comforting him.

"Oh, Roni…"\\

Bart gasped and shook out of that very distant memory.  He knew all that Fei had said about only he and Elly/Miang being able to store memories for their later incarnations, but Bart was having more and more flashbacks of things that never happened to 'Bart'.  He was beginning to see people he'd known once in all kinds of places, and he was, frankly, frightened.  When he rose in the morning, donned his robes, fixed his hair, he was always amazed at the sight of his own face.  Not because he no longer recognized himself, but because he finally **did.**

All his life, he had had a sense that he was not quite right.  Whenever he saw his reflection, he saw something that wasn't quite him, somehow.  He'd spent most of his life convinced that that was because he wasn't King.  But, during the whole…thing…with Deus and Solaris, he had started to catch himself staring at his reflection, wondering why his hair was so short up front, why he was down an eye, why his face was so much rounder than it should have been.  As the first descriptions of Roni started coming up from Fei and Elly, and they had assumed that he was his reincarnation, Bart found himself much more comfortable filling the shoes of his long-dead ancestor than he would have believed possible.

When the dreams first started coming, he ignored them, dismissed as products of his sometimes overactive imagination.  Only once they started cutting into his waking life, had he started to truly worry about them.  Especially when his first reaction to seeing Krelian had been to think /_Krel, what the **hell did you ****do to your hair?/**_

Now, though, he found he couldn't separate his own experiences from Roni's, at times.  His mind still felt fairly ordered, though, not as if the memories were foreign, just old.  Hell, he remembered Raud's face, and Mary's, and others far better than he remembered his father's, most of the time.

His face was looking more normal every day.  It was losing the roundness of youth and settling into the firmer lines of a man, lines of worry and weariness settling around his eyes and mouth; his eyes hardening into physical manifestations of a steely will, but empty of light; his hair falling into the same waves Sigurd's bore proudly, though he pulled it back so no one would note the resemblance, for Sigurd's sake.

Everyone was so proud of him for growing up, so proud of themselves for forcing him to grow up.  Bart, however, was filled with fear, and a terrible sense of resignation, for he was armed with the knowledge no one else in the world had.

He knew how Roni had died.

Being forced to marry a woman he liked and respected, but did not love.  Being forced to abandon his dreams of total freedom from all manner of tyranny.  Being forced to give and give and **give of himself for the good of his people and his country.  It had broken his spirit in ways no one who had never experienced it could understand.  Roni had wilted and died when he should have still been in his prime as a king.**

Years of oppression and war and pain had started it.  Losing Sophia, and the losses of most of his closest friends because of that loss had contributed.  Losing Andvari had almost done him in, would have, if not for Raud.  Life had done the rest over the space of a few decades.  The loss of his youngest daughter in a plague, and Raud, who had tried to help the suffering, had simply done him in.

Bart wondered how much time he had left daily, now.  He was still trying to reform, though feeling that he should do as much as he could in the time he had.  He remembered what it was to rule, had fallen into the old habits easily enough, but the added strain of homework, marriage proposals, and rebuilding the entire world from scratch was compounding all that had killed him previously.

He struggled to force the gloomy thoughts from his mind.  He really ought to get back to his homework, now.  Maybe the infuriating rules of integration and differentiation would give him a short respite from the doubts that rose to eat him alive at every spare moment.

But it felt so nice to lay here, stretched out in Andvari's cockpit, the seat molded to his body like a glove, cradling him like a parent or a lover, no one in the world with the slightest idea where he was.  Maybe, he could just spend the night in here.  If he got up early enough, no one would even know.

He set his watch to wake him a full hour before he would have usually, even on his revised schedule, and relaxed for sleep.

He was deeply asleep by the time the weak electromagnetic pulse went off within the cockpit, resetting his watch.  He was oblivious even when the Omni-Gear activated, and walked slowly out of the hangar, and flew ponderously out into the desert night, unobserved except by the watchful eyes of Xenogears, Crescens, Vendetta, and the other Omni-Gears.

*

  Guess who Raud is!  Mary's sorta obvious.  Though, so's Raud.

  Yes, I think Emeralda and Kahr would make great friends, even like siblings.  And Kahr does sometimes refer to Vendetta as Zebulun or Zeb, because, unlike most of the other Omni-Gear pilots, he knows a bit better what happened to make Vendetta the Gear he knows and loves.  Aside from him, only Bart and Hyu are aware of the names of their Gears' Anima Relics, and Bart only through flashbacks.

  Yes, I believe Bart is extremely intelligent; he did come up with some gems of insight and tactical genius in the game, after all.  I think he just doesn't want to do his work, and that the constraints of being King really make him suffer.  I also think that stuff about storing info in the introns of the Mother, the Anti-type, and the Contact cannot possibly be the only way in which information can be passed to reincarnations.  Besides, why should they always be reincarnated into their descendants?  What's more, who did Lacan have kids with that Fei's his kid a few generations later?  *sweatdrop*  Do we want to know?

  Dude, the complaints about integration are **me.  That is my single self-insertion, and it's just a concept, so don't kill me, ne?**

  And Dan is so protective of his Roni/Bart!  Wait until the next part!  Then you'll really see!  And the other Gears let him go without complaint.  Maybe they know something their stupid human companions don't?

  Anyway, thanks for reading my ramble.  ****SHAMELESS SELF-ADVERTISING!**  Please read my other stuff.  It's all updating….  Please?**


	3. The Price of Growing Up

Hi!

  Okay, it has been over a year since my last update on this.  I honestly had no desire to leave it on the shelf for that long, and I really must apologize.  But here's the next part.  Please enjoy it!  Feel free to bombard me with questions, comments, concerns, et cetera.  Please no flaming though.

Big thanks go out to SVR and Nate for sticking with my lazy/busy self and kicking me repeatedly in the interest of getting updates.  Also, all reviewers are loved and appreciated, and I hope you still enjoy my little baby fic!

**Warning:  Anyone who may be offended or distressed by a character non-graphically contemplating suicide may want to be careful reading this part.**

*

"Where could he be?" Old Maison asked, agitated.  Bart hadn't been late to a meeting all week.  Was he sick of being good, now?  Had he decided to revert to his old ways?  Maison paced back and forth, hoping the Young Master would still show up.

Citan was no less upset.  He was still trying to figure out what had initially triggered the transformation into a responsible adult over night, and now he turns around and gets irresponsible, again!  It was so inconsiderate of him, so **typical**, that Citan was seriously frustrated.

Sigurd, however, felt remarkably unconcerned.  He wished Bart had told someone where he was going, but he was fully of the opinion that Bart needed a break.  He was going to insist he take one, here in a bit, but it looked like the young King had taken the initiative.  Sigurd had found himself worried over the heaviness that seemed to have settled into his little brother, the resignation, the darkness that had taken the place of the light in his eye.  Whatever had caused this 'reform,' it surely wasn't worth robbing him of all his joy, was it?

Suddenly, Fei burst into the room, ponytail flying behind him, and nearly getting stuck in the door as it banged shut.  His brown eyes were wide with alarm.  "Doc!" he cried, sounding on the brink of tears.  "Bart's **gone!"**

Citan stood up, seeing Fei's fear and urgency, but not fully comprehending, yet.  "Easy, Fei.  How do you know?  Maybe he just went off into some quiet corner of the palace…"

Fei shook his head impatiently.  "No!  He's nowhere to be found…and neither is Andvari!"

Sigurd lunged to his feet.  "**What?!?!**" he roared, his blue eye sparking with rage.  "How did he get Andvari out without anyone noticing?  Who the hell was on guard duty?  I'll wring his neck, I swear I will!  Just let me get my hands on him."  Citan had to physically restrain the taller man from charging off to do just that.  Fei's dark face had paled almost to Id's shade as he tried to appear unthreatening; he'd never seen Sigurd in a full rage, before, even when he flattened Ramsus with one hit.  Consequently, he was more than a little frightened.  But he had more news, so he had to speak up again.

"Um…Ramsus says he thinks he can find out what happened.  He said he wanted your input, Sigurd and Maison, since you knew him so much longer than the rest of us."

Sigurd stilled in Citan's grip.  "Is he in the Gear Dock?"  At Fei's mute nod, Sigurd sighed.  He turned to the man restraining him.  "You can let me go now, Hyu.  I promise I won't kill anyone this morning, unless they're really askin' for it."

Citan quirked a brow at the qualifier and the slip of Sigurd's mostly-Proper Ignas, but let go.  Sigurd was out the door in a flash, boots clicking on the stone floors with remarkable rapidity.  Citan, Maison, and Fei followed a moment later.

Upon reaching the hangar, they found Sigurd already gazing attentively at Ramsus, who was seated on one of Vendetta's large feet.  Emeralda was near Ramsus, and Billy was standing by Sigurd, equally attentive.  They moved to stand beside Sigurd, also.

Fei piped up first.  "Well?  Are you gonna do this, or not?"  Ramsus shot him a glare just shy of murderous, then looked up at Vendetta's face.  His lips moved as if he was talking to the machine, and Fei was convinced the artificial man had finally flipped (or maybe, flipped worse).  Then he turned back to them, and his face was grim.

"Vendetta says that last night, just prior to midnight, Fatima came in here dressed like a Gear tech.  At that time, he apparently entered his Gear, where he remained for several minutes.  Approximately an hour later, Vendetta's sensor's picked up an electromagnetic pulse from inside Andvari.  He says Dan told them that he was taking Bart away for a while, and left.  He says, also, that Andvari explained no further."

Fei rolled his eyes, openly skeptical, but Citan frowned and assumed thinking posture.  "Who's Dan?"

"Dan is…the person inside Andvari.  The Relic, the Anima that matches Bart's Animus."

Citan began to tap his foot.  "So we know that Bart did not take the Gear on his own, but how are we going to find them, when we don't even know what this 'Dan' is like?"

Emeralda spoke up.  "He is very like Bart.  He is passionate, violent, intelligent, and brave.  He loves Bart, and would do anything in his power to protect him from hurt.  He talks with Xenogears and Joseph a lot."

Citan frowned again, but Ramsus beat him to it.  "Joseph is to Renmazuo as Dan is to Andvari."

Fei glared suspiciously at Ramsus.  He'd been attacked a few times too often by this man to trust him completely in any matter.  "How do we know that you're telling the truth?  I've never heard the Gears talking; how can you?"

Unexpectedly, Emeralda stepped forward.  "I vouch for him.  Gears do talk, the Omni-Gears quite a lot, in fact, and Vendetta did say what he said."  They all stared at the girl in surprise.  She very rarely did anything of the sort, yet here she was, telling them all that Ramsus was totally right?  Then she smiled, Elly's smile, at the other.  "Go ahead, Kahr-niisan."

If she had wanted to shock them into silence, mission accomplished.

Ramsus nodded a thank you at her, then continued.  "Well, we know the types of places Bart would like, we know the places a Gear can't get to, and we also know that Andvari was around during **Roni** Fatima's life.  Fei," he asked, turning to his archrival.  "Do you think you could search places that might mean something to Roni?  Dan may be acting on Roni's experiences.  After all, Dan hasn't known Bart that long, so he may fall back on the memories he made with Roni."

Fei shrugged.  "Most everything that mattered to Roni was here in Aveh, or in Nisan. Especially right here in Bledavik.  I can try looking at a few other places, but I doubt it will turn up anything."

"We need to check all possibilities," Sigurd said quietly, though his lack of volume didn't prevent anyone from hearing him.  His single eye seemed to be blocking all of them out of his thoughts, and the grim line of his mouth was forbidding.  "We will need sand buggies if we want to get anywhere without Gears.  I will go retrieve us some."  He walked away, his gait not betraying the rage Fei, at least, now knew lurked under the surface.

After a few minutes, Citan finally snapped then out of inaction.  "Well, then.  Since we will probably spend a lot of time searching, everyone should get ready for a long day.  Make sure you take food and plenty of water, as well as weapons.  Good luck."

*

It was just past noon when the call came in, from Billy, of all people.  A simple transmission over the rough radios they had, consisting of "This is Billy.  I've found Andvari.  Wait for further details," was all that alerted them.  The former Etone was barely on speaking terms with the former pirate, most of the time; how he had managed to find him so quickly was certainly one of the questions of the moment, right up there with whatever the hell Bart was up to.

After a few minutes more, longitude/latitude coordinates crackled across their speakers, and the searchers turned their buggies toward the location they'd been given.  It was an insignificant piece of coastline; beautiful, but near no landmarks, or anything resembling civilization.  There were high igneous cliffs, a beautiful, if narrow, black sand beach, and pretty shells strewn all over.

And a huge red Omni-Gear perched atop the cliffs.

All of the searchers jumped out of their vehicles, and scrambled to where the Etone stood, waiting for them.  He nodded over to where the Gear stood.  A tiny form was visible against the huge red machine and the black of the cliffs, and they started toward it.

Sitting on the edge of the cliff was Bart.  He was dangling his feet over the side, swinging them slowly back and forth over the beach far below.  His customary braid was undone, in favor of a loose pony-tail, and his golden bangs floated loosely on the soft sea-breeze.  His grimy clothing—**deliberately grimy, or so it appeared—had been cast aside except for his pants.  The sun accented his dark skin beautifully, casting golden highlights and deep shadows over the contours of his fit body.  They could not see his face.**

"Oi, Bart!" Fei hailed.  The blond turned to face them, and Fei and Elly were rocked back by what they saw there.  Even the others, who did not comprehend completely all they saw, were stunned by the face looking back at them.

Onto Bart's young face had settled fresh lines.  Not enough to make him look 'old', but enough to make him look 'not young'.  He looked slimmer, as if he hadn't been eating (which was probably true), and his hair fell into his face in golden waves, which he absently pushed aside.

Fei's heart just about stopped.  /_Roni…  He looks just like Roni!_/

Bart's lips turned up in a tired smile.  "Hey, Lacan.  'S been a while."

"Roni," Fei murmured, and heard the stir in the people with him.  Only Elly was unmoved, having already suspected from the moment Bart turned to face them.

The blond smiled at him, and gestured to a space beside him on the edge of the cliff.  "Come.  Sit.  You look tired."

Fei moved to sit beside him.  "How've you been, Roni.  I haven't seen you in…it seems like forever!"

The blond shrugged and went back to gazing over the shifting sea.  "Not much, really.  Got married, had kids, made a kingdom, died, reincarnated.  You know, the usual."  At Fei's surprised and skeptical look, Roni laughed.  "Oh, Fei, I'm still Bart!  And Bart is, and has always been, Roni.  There's no real difference."

Fei shrugged uncomfortably.  "So…ah…what are you doing out here?"

Bart smiled again.  "Well, Dan brought me out here.  I haven't been here in…God, I think it was before I married Mary!  It hasn't changed much."

Fei stared at Roni for a long moment.  "Is that why you won't marry Margie?  Because you still think of yourself as being married to Mary?"

Roni snorted.  "Big diff, Lacan.  As Bart is Roni, Elly is Elly, and Fei is Lacan, so too is Margie Mary.  No real change.  Naw, I don't want to marry Margie anymore than I wanted to marry Mary.  I probably will, though.  That's how royalty works."

Bart was obviously depressed, so Fei cast about for something else to talk about.  "Why are you still out here?  Is Andvari out of power?"

Bart shrugged and swung his feet far too casually over a heart-stopping amount of empty space.  "I was considering jumping," he said calmly, almost lightly, his one eye fixed on the beach far below.  Fei felt his eyes widen and his stomach drop out, and he clamped a hand over one of Bart's wrists—/_too skinny.  He's lost too much weight._/—without really realizing it.

Bart glanced at him and shook his head.  "Don't worry.  I talked myself out of it several hours ago, or you would never have known what happened to me.  I didn't want to do to you and to my people what was done to me, so long ago."  He suddenly snorted in wry humor.  "God, and now I sound like Ramsus must, when he gets onto the subject!"

Fei cast his eyes down, remembering how, as Lacan, he had just abandoned Roni and everyone he'd ever known in search of power so he would never lose someone he cared about again.  His own actions had lost him **everything** he'd ever cared about.  "I'm sorry, Roni.  I…was being selfish.  I thought…if I could just get enough **power, I would never have to lose anyone again.  But I just dropped you and Rene and everybody for nothing."**

Roni smiled slightly.  "Don't be like that.  Everyone screws up, sometimes.  It's just a matter of not repeating it."  Then he glared, deep blue eye narrowing.  "But if you **ever do that again, I won't be so forgiving.  Don't forget it."**

Fei held up his hands between them, nodding frantically.  "Of course, of course!  I won't do it again, Roni, honest!"  Roni blinked slowly at him, then tilted his head back and laughed, a sound of such joy that Fei felt his own lips stretch into a smile.

"So, you ready to go back yet?  Everyone in the castle was seriously frantic, you know.  Besides, we may have convinced Sigurd to stay home, but I doubt he'll be willing to sit around much longer.  Actually, I'm surprised he hasn't already shown up."

Roni's laughter faded.  He sighed and cast a listless stare over the water below.  "Yeah, I guess I oughta get back.  So much for my little 'vacation.'"  He rose slowly, stiffly, as if all the years of every incarnation, the cares of every person he 'ruled,' had come crashing down on his shoulders, settling in his bones.  Fei smiled a sad, sympathetic smile and started to rise…

Only to be bowled over by something huge and red.  As he hit the hard rock—perilously close to the edge of the cliff, of course—he could hear the cries of alarm from the others, but only faintly past the ringing in his ears.  As he shook off the blow, he saw Andvari looming over him, active, and radiating 'anger' as much as any machine ever could—maybe more.

Then Bart was standing in front of him, facing the Gear, arms outstretched.  "No, Dan!  Don't do it.  Fei's a friend, remember, a **friend**!"  The Gear faltered, and a low humming whine filled the air, a sound so mournful that Fei could not believe that this Omni-Gear was **not** every bit as alive as any biological life-form.

Bart walked up to the Gear, and placed one hand on the red metal.  He began to stroke in the slow, random patterns humankind had long ago discovered to be soothing.  It seemed to work even on the Gear, for it dropped into a crouch, turning its glowing camera eye away from Fei.  "It's all right, Dan.  It's all right.  Don't worry about me, okay?"

Bart sighed and turned back to them.  "Let's go," he said quietly, and his eye was dark.  Fei shivered, for he had never seen such a bleak expression in that bright blue eye, in any incarnation.  His heart was cold with dread, but he hid his concern, knowing it would do no good at this time.  But he was not about to let this one slide: once he got back, he was going to have a chat with Maison and Sigurd.

Even if Sigurd **did** scare the crap out of him.

*

Sigurd managed to get off the hook.  The circumstances were depressing, though, and Fei had not the heart to speak to him at the time.

Upon returning to Bledavik, the searchers learned that Ramsus had suddenly fallen into a coma, not long after they left.  He was still out, and Sigurd could not be pried away from his side.  Citan had gone immediately to the room given to Kahr, where Jessiah was standing watch with Sigurd.  Emeralda had also gone to the room, plunked herself down on the bed beside the comatose Solarian, and refused to budge.

Fei stood watching the quiet activity as Citan marshaled the efforts of the doctors, and the low-toned council he had with Jessiah and Sigurd.  His eyes floated up to Ramsus's face of their own accord, and he had to suppress a shudder.

Kahran Ramsus lay perfectly still, in one of those posed positions doctors lay people in when they are unconscious, that no aware person would be able to tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time.  His flesh was pale, lacking the golden-ivory sheen it typically possessed, making him look like he hovered on the brink of death.

Of course, he **was** on the brink of death, though Fei was **not** going to think about that now.

It was just so strange to see Ramsus so pale and still, to see his strong, capable hands limply resting at his sides on those horrible hospital-white bed sheets, making him look even more washed-out.  Ramsus had never been still, even from the first time Fei had met him.  Now it was as though a gale could break out in the room and not even rustle his hair.

At least it was too soon for him to be losing weight and muscle mass.  Seeing Ramsus not only still, but weak, too, would just unnerve Fei to no end.

Emeralda was also starting to scare Fei.  She was sitting on the edge of Ramsus's bed, staring at his face as if she could will him awake.  She hadn't so much as blinked since Fei had come in half an hour ago.  Anxious, he padded up to her, and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay, Emeralda?" he asked softly.  She didn't look at him, but gave her head a tiny shake.  Emeralda was always honest, a fact that won Fei's admiration, but seeing her openly admit to a weakness when she could have just done nothing chilled him.  He knew that she had trouble with emotions, and still more trouble expressing them, so he sat on the bed beside her and looped an arm around her.  "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

Emeralda tore her eyes from Ramsus at last, and they were filled with tears.  "Fix him!" she said, her voice husky with emotion.  "**Fix him ****now!  I don't ****want to take care of Zebulun!  I **can't**!  Zebulun needs Kahr-niisan, not me!"**

Fei was guessing that 'Zebulun' was the name of the Anima Relic in Vendetta.  He remembered that Emeralda had said that the Gears talked.  He had a sudden vision of Andvari looming over him, angry, protective, as if it knew that going back to the life he'd been leading would hurt Bart.  Was Zebulun the same way?  Did it really **need Ramsus?**

Fei made a decision.  "Emeralda," he started, and made sure he had most of her attention before he continued.  "We don't **know** how to fix him.  Or you.  Or the Gears.  But I promise, we're trying, and we won't **stop** trying.  Okay?"

Emeralda nodded, and threw her arms around him.  "Thank you, Fei!"

Awkwardly, Fei put his arms around the unusually emotional young woman, and petted her green hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner.  Emeralda bundled closer, and sighed into his chest.  Fei sat with her until her crying quieted.

*

Bart sat quietly at his desk signing all sorts of official documents.  He'd hardly been back when the paperwork fell upon him again.  He hadn't even been able to look in on Ramsus, yet, and thus, his brother.  Poor Sigurd was really taking Ramsus's illness hard, by all accounts, and even Bart's own pitifully underdeveloped empathic sense corroborated the stories.  

Not that it surprised Bart that much.  

He'd always known there was a vacuum in Sigurd's life where a best friend was supposed to be.  The times Bart had overheard Sigurd talking with Jesse or Citan all seemed to point to there being a fourth in their little group, but it hadn't been until the Solarian commander had been rescued from Merkava that Bart had known for sure that Ramsus was both the fourth Element and Sigurd's best friend.  He didn't pretend to be a great friend-maker himself—despite his friendly personality, his position of power had always forced him apart from potential friends of roughly his age, so most of his friends were either much older than he, or very recently made—but Bart knew that it was bad for Sigurd to dwell on Ramsus's incapacitation.

Signing one last overly official-looking document with a heavy sigh of relief, Bart turned his keen mind to the problem of distracting Sigurd.  The older man was a friend, a brother, a loyal subordinate, an advisor, and nearly a father-figure for Bart.  Knowing he was suffering was almost too much for him to bear.  He really wanted to run to the other, throw his arms around him, and demand that he 'get better soon or else!' but he knew that it was impossible to just turn off one's emotions.

So instead of acting on his first impulse, Bart thought.  Sigurd needed a distraction: legitimate, of a great enough magnitude to pull him from his depression, of a long enough duration to be meaningful, and unlikely to result in deepening his depression.  Basically he needed to have a whole lot of concentrated fun.

…What the hell did Sigurd do for **fun?**

Drinking was out; brawling…any other time, maybe; reading…doubtful; thinking…not something Bart wanted him doing too much of right now…

…**What** the **hell** did Sigurd do for **fun?!**

Just then, there was a light tap at his door, and Bart hurriedly sat up straight, tidied up his desk (he could never **find anything on it if it was clean, so he kept it messy, for the most part), and cleared his throat quietly.**

"Enter," he said loudly enough to be heard, but quietly enough to still sound dignified.  Maison had been upset with him the last time he had been 'screaming through the door like a hooligan'.

To Bart's surprise, the very object of his recent thoughts walked in.  Sigurd looked weary, a little unsteady on his feet, and astoundingly open with his feelings.  His eye was a dull ember in its socket and his shoulders were slightly slumped.  Still, he mustered a small, fake smile for Bart.  "Hello, Young Master."

Bart nodded and did not point out to Sigurd how heart-wrenching his paper thin facade was.  "Hello, Sigurd.  Please have a seat."  He indicated a chair, into which Sigurd dropped with none of his usual grace.  Bart's eyebrows were fighting up toward his hair line, but he kept them in a nice, neutral position and smiled.

"What can I do for you, Sig?  How's Ramsus?"

Sigurd looked pained, and Bart wanted to kick himself.  Of **course he'd bungled everything in the first couple seconds.  How very typical of him.  However, Sigurd shrugged.  "As well as can be expected, I suppose.  He seems to be comfortable.  Emeralda mentioned something about Zebulun being distressed, but I don't know about that."**

Bart sighed, then looked at Sigurd's face more closely.  There could only be one reason for Sigurd to come to him at a time like this.  Bart leaned back in his chair, and met his mirrored gaze steadily, waiting for Sigurd to just come out with it.  At last, the Noln native sighed.

"I guess I can't leave you to guess anything these days, can I?  You've come to know so much.  Actually, there were two reasons I came today.  One, you already know, the other…"  Sigurd shook his head.  "Fei didn't say anything, but I heard Elly and Billy talking in the hall.  Young Master," his gaze bored into him, and Bart blinked.  "Why were you thinking about committing suicide?"

Bart's eyes widened.  He'd hoped—rather unrealistically, of course, but still he'd hoped—that Sigurd wouldn't hear about that.  Then he sighed and dropped his impeccable posture, signaling that this talk was person to person.  "Sig, look at all of this.  Do you see all these papers?  All this work?  This is what makes a country **work, Sig.  But it's not what I'm cut out for.  I can do it well enough, but…" he shook his head.  "This isn't me.  This has never **been** me, and will never **be** me.  I just feel so…trapped.  And it seems like the more I push for democracy, the more people want me to stay in place as King."**

With an only slightly disjointed feeling, he added.  "It's not like I ever really meant for my family to become a generations-long monarchy, anyway.  Aveh was never supposed to be under the sole control of one person.  Too much power in the hands of too few people; we've all seen what that did to Solaris and, to lesser extent, Shevat."

Sigurd's brow furrowed, and Bart wished to swallow his words.  Sigurd, however, just shrugged after a moment's thought.  "So that's true, too.  I suppose it is strangely fitting for the one that established the kingdom to be the one to dismantle its royal house.  I'm guessing Roni was about as enamored of paperwork as you are?"

Bart smiled, a bit of the disjointedness fading.  "Oh, some things never change.  Paperwork just flat sucks.  On the other hand, the sun probably wouldn't rise tomorrow if someone didn't fill out the paperwork for it.  I figure it must be a universal constant."

Sigurd smiled ironically in return.  "You never saw Solarian paperwork.  Trust me, **that was an experience."  He sobered.  "You know, they only want you to stay because they love you.  You freed them from a tyrant, sought to alleviate their suffering any way you could, helped them through a time when a huge chunk of the world's population died or disappeared.  With things as unsteady as they've been, it's really little wonder they cling to you so.  The people need stability, right now, and they think you can give it to them.  Even if it's unfair to you to expect such a thing, they want you to give them their happiness back.  And you'll try, because, no matter how much you hate being King, you love the people of Aveh in ways most rulers would never consider.  I suppose, that's why you suffer under the weight of your responsibilities, instead of reveling in your privileges."**

Bart laughed.  "Well, let me indulge in a little revelry right now.  I want you to take whatever time off you need to see to your friend.  I'm not going to order you to stay out of the offices, since you may need the distraction at some point, but I don't want you to feel obligated to come in and work when you really want to be with Ramsus, or standing over the researchers and cracking the whip.  We may not know Ramsus well, but I think we all respect him, and would hate to see him go.  If Citan's interested, I'm going to see if we can squeeze him onto the project staff.  I don't know how much he knows that may be of use to Ramsus or Emmy, but he knows Gears inside and out.  God, if we could just get a power source…!  We're also working on getting Balthasaar and Taura Melchior here for their input…especially Taura.  He's got so much experience with nanomachines, he could probably come up with a dozen alternate approaches we haven't even thought of, yet."

Sigurd smiled, gratitude on his face.  "Thank you very much, Bartholomew!  I appreciate your understanding."

Bart stood, and walked around to the other side of the desk to hug his still-sitting half-brother.  "Of course.  You've always been there for me, now it's my turn to be there for you.  We've all had it rough the past while; I think everyone on the planet has!  It's only fair we support you when you need it, just as you supported the rest of us."  Bart pressed a kiss into his brother's hair, smelling antiseptic and something faintly metallic over his usual sharp desert-spice-and-sand scent.  "Besides, I love you, and want you to be happy.  I can't do much more than I have to help you, or Emmy, or Ramsus, but by God I'll do what I can!"

Sigurd curled in his embrace a moment longer, soaking in all the comfort and strength his little brother was offering him, before disentangling himself.  "Thank you, Bartholomew.  For everything.  I think I'll go peek in on Emmy and Ramsus, then I'll start, ahem, 'cracking the whip' at our dear scientists.  I'll be careful not to damage them permanently, though."

Bart smirked.  "Awesome!  And if you see Doc Citan or the research foreman, could you send them my way?  I think I'd like to get Citan settled as quickly as we can, before we have to deal with the old men and big guns coming in."

Sigurd nodded and offered a half-bow before sweeping out.  Bart settled back behind his desk to attempt to do some more paperwork.  He was just glad he could help Sigurd a little bit.  It made him feel just a bit more grown up, like all the years he remembered might eventually mean something.  Now, if only he could be strong enough to get them all through this.

*

                So, there you have it.  Part Three of _Zebulun._

Poor Bart is under a lot of stress, and Roni is making his presence felt.  Bart's trying so hard to be grown up about everything, trying to live up to the expectations places on him.  Kahr has—at least temporarily, possibly permanently—fallen below the power level he needs to maintain consciousness.  So Sigurd and Emeralda are desperately worried for him.  Sigurd's temper got a little workout, too!  Come on, the man's got a **navel piercing, you ****know he's more than a nice, calm elder half-brother.**

I hope everyone enjoyed my little piece of Xenogears-worshipping fiction.  More to come in part Four!  We might get a little of other characters' viewpoints, possibly Billy, Citan, and maybe Margie.  Also, a little of the title character's thoughts.  *grin*

Please stay tuned.  I hope not to go so long without updating, this time!  As an apology, I have also written a short Vagrant Story piece that can be found here on ff.net, for anyone who is interested.  It is a kind of underrepresented fandom…


	4. Heart to Heart x2

Hello!

No, I haven't died, and this story hasn't either. It's been…waaaay too long since I updated it, and to anyone still reading this, I'm really sorry. The muse abandoned me for a while. Fortunately, it's been flickering in and out of late, so maybe I'll finally manage to get some more work done.

Anyway, not too much to comment on up here. More notes follow.

THIS WOULD BE A BREAK, WERE FF . NET COOPERATING!

Kahr floated in a strange twilit realm where nothing seemed familiar. It felt a bit like sensory deprivation, since he was unable to tell where he began and ended, but at the same time it was something profoundly different from that. It was more like his body just wasn't there, not that it wasn't receiving any stimuli. But he could still see, he was aware of warmth and a soothing rocking motion, and a sound like waves on a shore.

He 'shifted' slightly, trying to alter his viewpoint enough that he could make sense of whatever it was he was seeing. As soon as he did so, he heard a familiar voice 'behind' him.

"Kahr! You're awake! I was so worried…"

Kahr 'turned' to face the voice. At first it was as though he was looking at a glowing point of energy, but the voice had been familiar, and within moments, an image of Vendetta had overlaid the light.

"Zebulun? What is this place?"

"A place of energy and being. A place where will is power."

Kahr turned to face the new voice, another familiar one. Sure enough, there stood Krelian, but totally different from how he'd known him. His hair was a soft lavender color and floated lazily around his face, and he seemed to glow from the inside. A pair of wings fashioned of light were folded elegantly across his back, and he wore no clothing. He smiled.

"Hello, Kahran. It's been a while."

Now, usually, the mere thought of Krelian made Kahr tense with rage. Speaking civilly to the man had always been one of the ultimate tests of his will and patience. However, right now he felt none of the usual anger or resentment. In fact, he felt almost reassured by the presence of his maker. And Krelian looked so…different. The shadow of old sadness still lay across his features—if anything, he actually seemed to bear a greater, ageless sorrow—but there was also a radiant happiness within him. The sight of him made Kahr's heart ache.

"Hello, Krelian. It has been **quite** a while."

Krelian smiled. "I am glad to see you again, my dear. This gives me a chance to make amends—or try, at least. Although, I wish it were under better circumstances."

Kahr inclined his head, or whatever equivalent there was without his body. "Amends? What do you seek to make amends for?"

"Anything. Everything. I suppose, first of all, I wish to apologize to you for the awful way I have treated you. I used, abused, and neglected you, when you are the one thing I should have showered my attention upon. As your maker, that was my responsibility. And it should also have been a privilege. I have failed you and my own self."

Kahr pondered for a long moment. "For neglecting me, I forgive you. For hurting yourself…it's really not my place to forgive. For instead turning your attention to Fei… I don't know if I can ever forgive you that." Krelian looked pained, and Kahr sighed. "I do know, however, that had you wanted, you could have truly destroyed me when Miang suggested it, rather than dumping me out with the trash. I owe you for my creation and for abandoning me, instead of killing me. For that, I—" Kahr swallowed hard. "I will try to forgive you."

Krelian's smile was like the sun coming up. "Thank you."

Kahr shrugged awkwardly. "You gave me Zebulun. For that, I could almost honestly love you."

Krelian shook his head. "Don't. Zebulun was yours from the start. I would never have been able to keep you apart. Anima and Animus. That is the way things were meant to be."

Kahr frowned. "That is something I still don't understand. You made me. But from what we know of the Anima Relics, Anima and their respective Animus Complements were created together. How then can I be Zebulun's Animus?"

Krelian smiled. "I poured much into making you. Do you know what you are? In the beginning, there was Cain. From him and the True Miang came all living humans on your world. Miang was the agent of the system and ensured that each of her original children corresponded to an Anima component of Deus. Cain himself, however, was outside the system, an Operator of it. As such, he could use any of the Anima or Animus.

"When the Contact came, everything changed. He was descended more directly of Cain himself than any other being on the planet. When he contacted the Wave Existence, the old rules governing Anima and Animus changed. The separated Anti-type of the Mother had gravitated toward him before, and the bond between them grew that much stronger after Contact. But the power of the Contact was too much for one human mind or soul to bear, so it fractured under the stress. The power of the true Contact was spread out over the Animus. However, Animus are not usually all in the world at the same time—that was an event saved for the End Time when Deus would gather all its pieces back to itself.

"Cain was not immortal. He aged and died as any man would, so the Gazel Ministry—Miang's original children—had clones made of him and transferred his awareness from one to the next. Indeed, that is what they themselves had to do when they lost their bodies. But they lacked the genetic material to make clones, so they transferred to a computer to wait until suitable children of their lines arose to be taken as hosts for their minds. But the condition of being Animus is both mental and physical; when the Ministry lost their bodies, the Animus were reborn in the world in new forms. When Cain lost his original body, his condition was also partially lost to the mortal realm. That is why there was a Contact, and Animus, in the first place.

"When I made you, it was initially as just another clone of Cain. I don't think you knew that, did you? That you are Cain? It's true. After we knew for sure that the Contact was a portion of Cain, Miang and I attempted to turn one of the Cain clones—you—into an artificial Contact. However, Cain's condition was born into the world in a child named Fei, instead of coming to you, as we hoped it would. You had the body of the original Cain. Fei had the body of the Contact Cain. Grahf had the mind of the Contact Cain. And the Emperor had the mind of the original Cain. When Miang found that the boy Fei was behaving as a Contact, you became… extraneous, redundant, worthless. At least as a Contact, and therefore to her.

"As I made you, with my own hands, I discovered something interesting in you. You were a blend of nanomachines, Cain's DNA, and energy. But as you grew, I realized that, though you were not behaving as a Contact, you were behaving as Cain and as an Animus. The Memory Cubes were reporting many, many of the Animus were being born, or had already been born. Hyuga Ricdeau, Elhaym Van Houten, William Blanche, and myself in Solaris; Bartholomew Fatima, Rico Banderas, and Kahn Wong on the surface. And others. When you began responding as the Zebulun Animus, I already knew that many Animus were already accounted for, and the Issachar, Reuben, Simeon, and Levi Anima were aligned long ago. Knowing that that accounted for nearly all the Anima and Animus, I knew your existence was important. God was using extraordinary means to have all the Deus circuits completed in this lifetime. I could not destroy you; it would have ruined all I had worked for these past centuries.

"And besides—" Krelian smiled slightly. "I had grown to rather like you. Ah, you were nothing but a baby I had raised from a cell and a self-perpetuating nanomachine colony, but you were **alive**, and I had made you so. You probably don't remember, but I spent many long years in that lab, during which I told you many things. All things. I spoke of losing Elly, of learning from Taura Melchior, of Shevat, of the Lambs and the Gazel, of Gears, of Anima, of your construction. I told you everything. I poured my heart out to you, and you listened. When Miang ordered your termination… I simply could not bring myself to destroy you, my golden child. So I abandoned you in a waste chute. I could not keep you—Miang would have found out—so I had to rely on God to keep you safe as Animus until the appointed time.

"You have no idea how my heart leapt when I saw you for the first time, training at Jugend. I'd made you distinctive, gold and ivory and beautiful, so I knew at once it was you. And your golden eyes seemed to see right into me, your abandoner, your executioner, your father—and I could do nothing. Miang was so angry when she found out that was who you were, but she decided we could still make use of you, so I had to hurt you more. I offered you kindness and good things, then beat you down when you reached to take. I called you…horrible things, and lay awake at night, swearing I could hear the cries of your tormented soul. It was only the thought of what was to come and my own nanomachines that kept me going. You were an artificial being I made myself, but I knew you had a soul. And you're not the first 'machine' to have one. It gladdens me to think you may have a place after all of this is over."

Kahr hovered, silent, in the emptiness following Krelian's exposition. His heart thundered loudly enough in his ears, he wondered that Krelian didn't hear it. After a moment, he divulged a tidbit of his own.

"I do, you know. Remember, that is. So when I met you as a man, I knew you. Do you realize you never said anything truly bad to me in the lab, even when Miang goaded you to it? I associated you with warmth and gentleness and sorrow. I was so confused by how cruel you were to me afterwards. You hadn't been cruel before; I knew you didn't want to send me away. If I had known that the beautiful woman who became my lover was the same entity that forced you to discard me back then, and that she was still forcing you to do things, I would have killed her the moment I laid eyes upon her.

"Don't get me wrong; I know you're no saint. You're capable of ruthlessness, vindictiveness, jealousy, murder, and cruelty as few men are. But it is the nature of a child to love his parents, even when they do terrible things to him. And God, how I loved you! I still do, even if I'm not sure I can forgive you for casting me aside for Fei, or for showing Emeralda a kindness and attentiveness you never bestowed upon me. You're my father, my mother, my maker, the one who directed my life—very nearly my God. And I love you for that."

They stayed there in silence for a very long time, before Krelian slipped close to him and wrapped his arms around him. Kahr sighed and rested his head on one of Krelian's slim shoulders and allowed himself to be held by this man who was the root of his existence, unhappy though it was. Even though they were not holding each other physically, he still imagined it to be much like a child felt, held to its mother's breast; comfortable, safe, enveloped, content, and loved.

He forgave.

THIS WOULD BE A BREAK, WERE FF . NET COOPERATING!

"Hey."

Sigurd lifted his head from its resting place on Kahr's bed to look up at Hyuga, who stood in the doorway. He grunted an acknowledgment, then put his head back down at Kahr's side. He listened to the quiet rustle of fabric as Hyuga moved to sit in the chair beside him. For a while, Emeralda had occupied it, but right now she was curled up in the bed on Kahr's other side. The ancient girl/woman no longer bothered Sigurd with her presence. In fact, he found her to be quite soothing. She did not broadcast emotions for him to pick up the way true humans did, and the faint flickers she did send off were just enough to tell Sigurd that here was another person who felt strongly for Kahr. Of course, her feelings for the comatose man were of a friendly nature, with kinship and sisterly feelings thrown in for spice. Sigurd's own feelings were…somewhat different in nature.

"Sigurd," Hyuga began, and Sigurd had to bite back a sigh. That tone of voice never boded well. "Can we talk?" There was a pause. "Alone."

Sigurd lifted his head, even as he heard Emeralda shift in bed. She had wrapped her arms tightly around Kahr's limp form and was glaring at Hyuga so hard the doctor was likely to spontaneously combust.

Sigurd shook his head. "Talk. Whatever you have to say, I'm sure Emeralda can hear it. Besides, she's discreet enough, and trying to pry her off Kahr probably won't be worth the effort. And a lot of effort it'd be." He told Hyuga with his gaze that he wouldn't be pried away, either.

Hyuga was silent for a long time, studying Sigurd's face. Sigurd met his friend's eyes for a moment, then set his head back down with a sigh. Hyuga shifted in his chair, uncomfortable even though that was one of the most comfortable chairs in the city. Sigurd waited for the other man to finally speak his mind.

"You still love him, don't you?"

Sigurd heard Emeralda shift and utter a soft gasp. Funny how many human mannerisms she had picked up since they'd freed her from Krelian. Sigurd himself only nodded mutely against Kahr's side. He didn't even lift his head to speak.

"I don't know how much Bartholomew knows, but he's given me permission to take what time I need. I'm grateful, I suppose; it was very thoughtful of him."

"He also mentioned something about letting you help 'motivate' the scientists. You haven't been out of here in hours, though. Not much motivating going on."

Sigurd smiled against the rough hospital sheets and turned his head to look at Hyuga. "You know, I only came in to see how little changed. But once I was here, I just had to sit down and stay a while. I guess…I guess I don't want him to be alone. I know Emeralda's here," he lifted his gaze to meet her curious eyes, then closed his own eye. "I just don't want him to think I abandoned him. Again."

One of Hyuga's strong, nimble hands suddenly came to rest on his shoulder. When the ex-Element spoke, his voice was rich and dark like fine chocolate. "Sigurd, my friend, what you did back then was something you had to do. Yes, you hurt him; no, he's not forgotten. But you need to forgive yourself eventually. I think that at some level, he may even admire you for being able to set aside your feelings for him to do your duty by your family."

Sigurd sat up and glared at Hyuga. "That's just it, Hyu! I **didn't**. God help me if I ever did. Do you have any idea what it's been like these past years, trying to forget that I tore his heart out and stepped on it? And don't tell me it's not as bad as all that—" he said, cutting off Hyuga's impending protest with a vicious chopping motion. "You know I'm empathic; I know **exactly** what I did to him. I could barely walk to my escape shuttle with his pain screaming at me like that. But I did, and I'm so glad I was out of my empathic range within a few minutes, because I think I would have turned around and gone back if I'd been aware of him for one more minute."

Hyuga fixed his dark eyes on Sigurd. "I know it hurt, Sigurd. And I'm perceptive enough to know that you blame your leaving for driving Kahr to Miang. But we both know she was making a play for him before you left, and she wouldn't have stopped just because you were still around. There are too many things that could have 'gone wrong' on a mission, too many ways she could have removed you from the picture. Besides, that's the past. You're here now, and Kahr will appreciate it."

Sigurd sighed. "We've all seen Kahr's ability to hold on to the past long after it should have died. And for all we know, he's never going to wake up to 'appreciate.'"

Hyuga glared at him. "Don't. Don't talk like that, don't think like that. You and I both know Kahran Ramsus is one stubborn cuss. He'd be mad to know you already counted him out of this, wrote him off. **That's** an abandonment, too. So don't you dare give up on him, yet." The swordsman stood up out of his chair, gracelessly shoving it back several inches and storming out.

Sigurd sighed and put his head down on the bed beside Kahr's still warmth. A few moments later, he started at the feel of slim fingers hesitantly stroking his hair. He looked up into Emeralda's worried face. His heart clenched to see those bright gold eyes—so much like Kahr's—looking at him in puzzled concern. God, she even had a tiny crease between her brows that was much like Kahr. He had to avert his eyes.

"I didn't know you had been so close to Kahr-niisan."

"Not many do."

"Why?"

Sigurd shifted uncomfortably. "What we had was never something we thought was anyone else's business. Hyuga knows because he was my roommate at Jugend. And my best friend. Jesse knows, too; he was my sponsor, commanding officer, and fellow Element. I felt obligated to tell him. Aside from that, I think you're the only other one who knows, now that that bi—er, Miang—is gone." Sigurd sighed. "I doubt Kahr knows I feel the same way, after all these years. He always was a little dense when it came to emotions."

"But you're an Empath?"

Sigurd nodded. "Solaris was always interested in people with natural psychic abilities. The inhabitants of my homeland often have such abilities. It's true I'm a bit stronger than most, but hardly the only one with powers. Of course, the people of Elru had powers, too, and look where they are now—gone. Only Dominia remains of her whole race. And the both of us spent time in those horrible little labs." He looked at Emeralda. "So did you."

The green-haired young woman nodded solemnly. "I remember. Krelian was very kind to me, when it was just us. But he was very mean when there were others present he needed to…impress." She sighed softly. "But that's done. Krelian is gone. Solaris and Deus and the Seraphs are all gone. Time to fix all the broken things: me, Kahr, the Gears…" She smiled a secretive smile and leaned close over Kahr's still body. "Maybe even Kahr's heart, and yours."

Sigurd smiled wistfully. "I hope so."

THIS WOULD BE A BREAK, WERE FF . NET COOPERATING!

Hi, again.

Yeah, sorry about the long talking bit with Kahr and Krelian. Not terribly interesting, I know. In fact, this whole part is a bunch of random talk…I'm really not too happy with it, but at least the muse didn't go off to die, or something, right?

And is it just me, or is ff . net being stupid about breaks again? P.O.S! kicks

Anyway, as always, comments, questions, and so forth are welcome.

--Akuma no Tsubasa


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